Page 2 of Jack Frost, CEO

Chapter 1

Maisie

Istare up at the skyscraper blocking the afternoon sun. How do they keep the windows so clean? The entrance has one of those roundabout doors. I hate them almost as much as I hate the real things.

I’m still standing on the sidewalk, chewing on my bottom lip. I’m not feeling confident at all.

When Uncle Gio called, I couldn’t believe it. I’d been turned down so many times, I’d just about given up hope. No one seems to think I can do the work before my visa expires. I can apply to extend it, but I have to return to Australia. I can’t put it off any longer. I know it’s my fault for leaving the hours to the last minute, but when you have to work two jobs just to keep the rent paid, food on the table, and classes covered, it doesn’t leave much time for unpaid hours.

He was furious when he heard that Father wasn’t paying for my schooling. I’m not fluent in Italian, but I could tell from his tone as well as the choice phrases he used that he wasn’t being complimentary. Uncle Gio put money in my account immediately. Then he set about trying to help me find a place to get my internship hours so the last three years would be well-spent, seeing as I can’t graduate without them.

So, now, here I am. Outside Foster Inc.

Uncle Gio said he went to school with the CEO, who’s excited to interview me. I need a hundred and eighty internship hours on top of what I’m already working at my two current jobs. While the money Uncle Gio put into my account has helped, most of it went to paying off fees and costs for the end of my degree and some small loans I took out to pad myself between semesters.

I just need Jack to give me a chance. Uncle Gio says he will, but I can’t be sure until it’s offered to me.

Walking into the lobby, I gawk at the marble floors and silver ornate work. People in business attire scurry back and forth, files and papers in their hands. Uncle Gio mentioned that Mr. Foster has done well since leaving Oxford, but I didn’t think he knew what that meant.

I approach the gleaming reception desk, tucking my hair nervously behind my ear. “G’day. I have a meeting with Mr. Foster?”

The clerk behind the desk looks at me, and I have to grimace. His gaze runs from the top of my blonde curls to the thrift-store flats I scored last week. “Name?”

“Maisie Mitchell? I was told to come right over.”

The clerk taps on his keyboard without peering up again. I nibble on my lip. Maybe Mr. Frost is in a meeting, or perhaps he’s changed his mind? Uncle Gio said Jack was a good man, but maybe he was wrong about him being able to help my situation.

The clerk slides a plastic visitor badge to me. “Here is your pass. You need to take the elevator to the twenty-third floor. Then go straight down the hall, fourth door on your left. Someone will meet you there.”

“Thank you so much!” I grab the badge, head to the lift, and punch the button for the twenty-third floor.

I bounce on the balls of my feet. I’m more than a little nervous. Uncle Gio told me Jack and Father didn’t get along but wouldn’t explain why.

The lift doors open, and I’m greeted by a long hallway down the middle of what appears to be an extensive cubicle farm. I tug my hair nervously as all eyes land on me. Counting the doors to myself, I reach the fourth on my left and open it. Only to come face-to-face with the man himself.

Chapter 2

Jack

Where is this girl?

When the receptionist messaged that she was downstairs and on her way up, I expected her to be in my office momentarily. I glance at my watch and sigh. “Guess this isn’t important to her.”

I grab my coffee cup and stand from my chair to let my private secretary know I’m no longer willing to entertain this whole interview idea. I approach the door as the solid wood slams into my nose and coffee mug simultaneously, covering me in blood and leftover Americano. Cursing, I stalk back to my desk and drop my cup down, in an attempt to stem the blood flow from my nose.

“Miss Mitchell, I presume?” My tone is rough and curt, and I notice a slight flinch before she rushes up to me with wide eyes and a pale face.

“Crikey, I’m so sorry! Oh no, your suit! I knew I should have knocked—why am I always such a blundering idiot?”

By the time my eyes stop watering, and I can focus, all I can see is a wealth of blonde curls surrounding a face that lesser men would battle for. At knee-level in front of me while her hands desperately wipe at my suit with crumpled tissue and a—

“Is that a McDonald’s napkin?” I ask as the girl shoves something in my hand.

“Sorry. Macca’s was by the subway, and I stopped off this morning.” Maisie gazes up at me. Her bottom lip catches beneath her front teeth as she swipes at my suit.

I clear my throat and step back, pulling a handkerchief from my pocket and pressing it against my nose. I walk behind my desk, needing the physical barrier between myself and this girl. I sit behind my computer and gesture to the chairs opposite me.

Maisie stands from the floor and perches on the edge of her seat. The vision of her on her knees, staring up at me, is stuck in my head. So I clear my throat again before I take her through the standard interview questions. Her tone is calm, relaxed, and collected. Her face a pleasant mask and her accent barely noticeable now. I find myself frowning. It bothers me that she’s putting on a professional front.

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